


If You Need Me I Won't Be Here

by DefaltManifesto



Series: Memories Will Last With Our Healing Scars [3]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Anti-Black Racism, Blow Jobs, Conflict Resolution, Cuddling, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, discussion of polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: Sitara's mother passes away and everyone feels a little rocky because Sitara can't hide from her past any longer.





	If You Need Me I Won't Be Here

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Father by Mr. Kitty
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this fic. And I have a lot of feelings about that song. 
> 
> Comments are loved and appreciated.

[The tumblr](http://defaltmanifesto.tumblr.com)

 

Sitara flops onto the couch, the motion jarring Marcus awake. He nearly falls off the couch in the process, then swipes the sleep from his eyes and shuts his laptop to put it on the floor.

“Finally,” she says, crossing her legs as she sips at her coffee. “I’ve been saying your name forever.”

“Sorry, long night,” he says as he sits up. “What time is it?”

“6 AM,” she says. “Your coffee is on the table.” She smirks when he groans. “Get up you baby.”

Marcus drags himself over to the big table in the middle of the room where a large coffee is waiting for him. “Where’s Wrench and Josh? And Ray?”

“Ray is passed out under the stairs,” Sitara says. “Wrench and Josh were at Wrench’s garage last I checked and Horatio already left for work. Which is good because I’ve been trying to get you alone for a while now but Wrench has kind of been attached to you like some sort of weird tumor.”

Marcus inhales his coffee and sets it down as he starts coughing, leaning on the table. Sitara seems unimpressed.

“So what’s the deal with you two?” she asks without missing a beat. “He’s been really…not Wrench. And he makes heart eyes at you like all the time when you aren’t looking. Are you messing with him?”

“What? No!” He frowns. “What the hell Sitara? You know I wouldn’t.”

She sighs. “I know, I know. I’m just…a protective mama bear.”

“You sure ain’t worried about _my_ dignity,” he says.

“That was my second questions,” she says. “Is he messing with you?”

“No,” he says, walking back over to the couch. He hops over the top and sits down next to her. “We’re not idiots, Sitara. We know what we’re doing.”

“So you’re dating?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Marcus says with a smile. “It’s…I definitely love him and I know he does too. You don’t have to worry Sitara, seriously.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’m sorry for sounding like I was accusing you of something. I get that it’s a bit of a sore spot.”

“Thanks,” Marcus says. He rests his head on her shoulder. “You’re forgiven I guess.”

She jabs his side with her fingers but then kisses the top of his head.

 

-.-

 

Marcus grabs coffee for Wrench and soda for Josh before heading out to the garage. Unsurprisingly, he finds both of them passed out on the mattress covered in oil. The Cyber Driver car is still there with the dashboard cracked wide open so he has a feeling they were tweaking with the voice again. He sits down beside them and pinches Wrench’s ankle. Wrench startling awake is enough to jar Josh awake as well but they both still when they see it’s just Marcus.

“Morning love birds,” Marcus says, handing them each their respective drinks.

“Not love birds,” Josh says. “At most I tolerate him.”

He takes the soda and rolls off the mattress and heads for the side room where there’s a small shower with terrible water pressure. Wrench rigged it together with old car washing hoses.

“I love you Josh-y!” Wrench calls after him.

Josh doesn’t respond but he doesn’t respond to much of anything when he’s tired. Wrench waits for the shower to start running before unhooking his mask and revealing his face to start drinking his coffee in comfort.

“What’s with the long face?” Wrench asks.

“Sitara,” Marcus says, folding his legs beneath him. “She was all pissed because she thought I was using you or messing with you or something. I told her we were in a relationship but I don’t know, it just rubbed me the wrong way you know? I care a lot about her and I know she feels the same but…I don’t know. It just felt like she was suspicious of me all over again, like she couldn’t trust me.”

Wrench’s eyes narrow. “I’ll talk to her.”

"Nah, don’t sweat it-“

“No, that’s stupid,” Wrench says. “She knows better. We all know better.”

“She apologized already,” Marcus says. “I just…I’m still hurt by it I guess.”

Wrench shakes his head. “If you don’t want me saying anything, maybe ask Horatio. She always listens to him.”

"That might be a better option. No offense but you’d say something stupid,” Marcus says.

“Well…you’re not wrong,” Wrench says with a shrug. The shower stops and he grabs his mask. Before he slides it on, he shifts forward and presses their lips together for a soft but deep kiss. “Thanks for the coffee sweet cheeks.”

Marcus wonders if Sitara would see hearts in his eyes when he watches Wrench walk away.

 

-.-

 

Before Marcus has a chance to talk to Horatio, Sitara’s already hunted him back down. He’s in Oakland working on scoping a drop-off point for the 580s to pick up a cocaine shipment out by the silos. Sitara waltzes into the area and locates him in half a second, looking up to the metal bridge he’s perched on.

“Hey can we talk?” she asks.

Marcus looks at his phone. “We’ve got five minutes before people start showing up for drug shipments. You any good at setting up bombs?”

“Am I a member of Dedsec or no?”

Marcus shrugs and then points off to the side. “Alright, fair. I need some over by those tire tracks there and then on the other side too.”

He opens his bag and pulls out three for himself and then dangles the bag over the side. Sitara catches it and heads over to where he pointed, laying them down and setting the electronic switches. They reconvene together on top of one of the silos using the crane and according to Marcus’ phone, they still have another three minutes – there was a traffic jam holding up the Sons of Ragnorak from making the drop.

“Why are the Sons selling to the 580s?” Sitara asks.

“Not selling,” he says. “Apparently one of their groups travels to the border a lot so they’re the mules. The 580s and Sons are splitting the profit.”

“I guess drugs and profit can unite just about anyone,” she says. “So I wanted to apologize again.”

“Right now?” Marcus asks.

“Traffic is bad,” she says.

“Alright, fine,” he says. “If guns start firing you gotta go though alright?”

“I do know my way around a gun you know,” Sitara says. “I brought my pistol with me just to be on the safe side.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Can’t tell you anything.”

“Hell no you can’t,” she says. “Not on shit like this. But anyways, I felt like I needed to apologize again. I consider you family, okay? And I love you a lot and I realize what I said might’ve made it seem like I still thought of you as outside of Dedsec which is totally unfair because you’re in the field more than anyone else I know. You’ve sacrificed more than any of us.”

“Not Horatio,” Marcus says.

“That’s different. You willingly put yourself in situations like these,” she says. “But whatever, that’s not important. What’s important is that you’re more committed than any of us and I made you feel like you weren’t and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Marcus sets his phone down so he can look at her. “Thanks. Seriously, I appreciate it.”

She gives him a small smile. “Yeah…” She leans over and kisses his forehead and then wipes away the purple lipstick mark she leaves behind. “Let’s blow up some white supremacists.”

 

-.-

 

Sitara’s mother dies at the end of the summer. Apparently it was a freak accident on their yacht down in the Caribbean, Marcus doesn’t know the details, all he knows is that Sitara has turned into a stone. She sits around the hackerspace and sketches all day long and he never actually finds her sleeping. Ray avoids the area entirely. Wrench watches from a distance but just shrugs when Marcus asks what to do. Horatio sits with her sometimes but they never talk. Josh continues on as if nothing has happened.

So Marcus just…does what he does best.

“Go away, Marcus,” Sitara says as he sits down next to her.

It’s past midnight. Since the news broke two days ago, everyone seems to abandon the hackerspace around ten to avoid any awkwardness. Marcus gets that Sitara is a little intimidating but it makes him mad that no one else knows what to do. No one else knows how to be her friend.

“Nope,” he says. “No one else is gonna ask it so I am. What’s up in that head of yours?”

Sitara sighs and tosses her pencil away and shoves her sketchbook aside. “Why the fuck does it matter?”

"Because everyone is too scared to talk to you and I don’t know if that’s because they can’t talk to women or because you always have your shit together, but given that I can’t speak to women very well either it’s probably the latter,” Marcus says. “I’m saying I don’t mind if you don’t have your shit together. You don’t have to pretend you do for me.”

“You’re not fucking special,” she spits, shoving her chair back and getting to her feet. “There’s nothing that makes you different from anyone else here, okay? There’s no reason I should open up to you and not anyone else!”

Marcus takes a deep breath, knowing that being mad won’t help either of them. “No, I’m not, but you’re not talking to anyone else and I’m offering. You don’t have to take it.”

Her anger deflates as quickly as it came and she slumps back into her chair, head in her hands. “I know. Shit. Shit!” She kicks the chair opposite of her. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“Your mom died,” Marcus says.

"No, a person with a uterus who pushed me out of their vagina died,” Sitara says as she folds her arms across her chest. “I shouldn’t care.”

Marcus takes a deep breath and lets it out because…wow. He knew Sitara didn’t like her parents but this was more than he thought. “Look, just because you hate someone doesn’t mean you can’t mourn them.”

“I don’t want to though,” Sitara says. She lurches back to her feet again and begins to pace. “Like first of all, she doesn’t fucking deserve my time to sit here and be like this, and she certainly doesn’t deserve my god damn effort either. Sure it’s okay if I do but it’s…I don’t want to.”

“Alright, alright,” Marcus says. “That’s fine. But I don’t think you really get a choice in this.”

“That’s why I’m mad!”

She collapses a moment later on the couch and begins to cry. It isn’t like when Horatio almost died. This is deep, body-wracking sobs that echo around the cement block of a room. Marcus glances around the room and finally finds the tissues before joining her on the couch and offering the box as a sort of peace offering. She snatches it out of his hands and he thinks she’s wiping her face but he can’t tell because her hair is covering everything from view. Marcus doesn’t know how long they sit there. He feels awkward and he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say so he doesn’t say anything.

It’s a half hour before her crying begins to grow quiet. By then she’s gone through the box of tissues and is curled up in Marcus’ arms with her face buried in his sweatshirt. It’s mostly dry sobbing by then. His clothes barely get wet. He wishes he could absorb all her pain, make her okay with what she was feeling even if he hated her mom too. After all, who else would make her feel like she didn’t deserve to feel the things she felt?

“You alright there?” he asks after a while.

“No,” she says, voice soft. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do or feel or…”

“It’s not about supposed to.” Marcus rubs her shoulders. “It’s just about what you _are_ feeling. It’s all okay.”

“What if part of me is happy?” Somehow, her voice manages to get even quieter.

“That’s fine too,” he says. “You can feel both things.”        

“It makes me feel like I’m crazy though,” she says, pulling back and wiping her eyes on her own sweatshirt. “It’s two opposing emotions and all that.”

“Well, you are, but not because of this,” Marcus says. “You’re like me. You think a good time for a heart to heart is while setting up an ambush for drug runners. But feeling things like a person isn’t bad or weird.”

Sitara closes her eyes and then curls back up against him. “I should go to the funeral.”

“You want us with you?”

“My dad would hate it.” She sounds tired, no, exhausted.

"Who gives a fuck? We’ve got your back Sitara. You want us there, we’re there. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling or what you want no matter what your brain is telling you, okay?” Marcus says. “I promise.”

Sitara doesn’t respond.

 

-.-

 

In the end, Marcus and Wrench go with her. Ray, per usual, excuses himself to avoid any sort of contact with messy emotions, and Horatio and Josh stay back to deal with any Dedsec business that crops up. The funeral is in a small town north of where they are called Crescent City.

“Wouldn’t you parents prefer something more luxurious what with the whole part where they can take showers in money?” Wrench asks as he punches the address she gives them into the GPS.

“This is their summer home,” Sitara says from the back seat where she’s sprawled.

“Well excuse me,” Wrench says in a teasing tone.

Sitara doesn’t smile.

 

-.-

 

The Dhawan summer home is three stories high and sits towering on the edge of a tall cliff that overlooks the ocean with a paved trail leading down to the beach. The attached garage holds four cars, and the building itself is built in a classic Mexican style with pale walls and red rooftop with beautiful arches leading to what appears to be a courtyard between the garage and house. As soon as they pull around to the front door, a maid rushes out in a prim black skirt and matching blazer, red hair twisted tight atop her head in a bun. She halts in confusion when she see Wrench and Marcus.       

It isn’t until Sitara opens the back door and climbs out that she relaxes.

"Hi Meredith,” Sitara says.

“Welcome home Miss Dhawan. Your father didn’t say anything about company,” Meredith says, not bothering to hide her pointed look towards Marcus and Wrench.

“Tell him we’ll meet him in his study,” Sitara says. “Thank you.”

Meredith hurries back inside while they get out of the car. Wrench reaches Sitara first, slinging an arm around her shoulders and hugging her close as she deflates into his side.

“So what’s the game plan here?” Marcus asks, stepping in front of them. “I don’t think your dad is going to be overly psyched about us being here after all.”

"Well, that’s the thing. I haven’t been entirely honest about how things were with my parents when I left,” she says.

Wrench pulls away, question marks flickering in his mask.

“I sort of…told my parents I eloped,” she says. “My dad didn’t want me marrying outside the social circle so I thought it was smart to tell them that I was eloping just as an extra kick before I bailed. It wasn’t the smartest idea.”

“Wait…” Wrench says, drawing it out. “You’re totally about to ask one of us to be your fake husband aren’t you?”

Sitara’s smile isn’t what it usually is but it’s nice to see. “Gotta have a little fun, right? So who’s it gonna be?”

“Wrench,” Marcus says. “For sure. Unless you want to pretend you have someone respectable for your husband.”

“Hey!”

“Wrench it is,” Sitara says. She pulls one of the rings off her finger and hands it to Wrench. “Here you go, sweetie.”

Marcus wouldn’t do this to his dad. He and his dad never liked each other, but if his mom had died, he wouldn’t have spent the whole time rubbing their issues in his face in the process. But he wasn’t going to judge Sitara. He can’t. If their relationship was bad enough to make her run from so much, he…he couldn’t imagine.

Meredith returns to guide them to Sitara’s father’s study on the second floor. The study itself is something Marcus wouldn’t mind having one day if he ever manages to settle down. The two walls on the side are just bookcases from the floor to the ceiling and the floor is a dark polished wood that matches the cases. There’s a small seating area with light blue, elegant looking chairs and matching sofa. The coffee table in front of it has curved legs and claw feet. All in all, it makes Marcus feel mostly out of place. He wishes he could remove the man and keep the books.

Sitara’s father sits on chair facing them. His expression is unreadable as Sitara and Wrench take a seat on the sofa and Marcus takes the chair opposite of him. He’s a tall man and well built, enough so that Marcus would have a tough time taking him, not of course, that he intended on brawling with Sitara’s father. His skin is darker than Sitara’s, but their hair is identical in color. His is shaved close to his head and delicate looking glasses perch on the middle of his nose.

“Wrench, Marcus, this is my father, Chitresh Dhawan,” Sitara says. “Father…this is Wrench, my husband, and his best friend Marcus.”

If he’s surprised by the declaration, he doesn’t show it. Marcus is half tempted to check his phone to get a read on what he’s feeling, but there’s no way to stealthily crack the Wi-Fi password and the data out here is shit.

“I was unaware you were bringing company. You should have said,” Chitresh says. “I’m afraid we don’t have any room for them.” His gaze flicks over to Marcus.

“That’s fine, sir,” Marcus says with a smile. “I like camping. I can stay on the beach.”

“Marcus, no,” Sitara says. “He can stay with me and Wrench. We don’t mind.”

Chitresh looks back towards her. “I suppose that’s acceptable, if odd. Make sure the rest of the family doesn’t see you going or coming together.”

There’s a threat there, Marcus thinks, but he doesn’t know enough to be sure. He looks at Sitara’s face to get some sort of gauge, but hers is just as stone-like as her father’s so he has no choice but to let it be.

“Understood. Will we be taking my room?” Sitara asks.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll have Meredith bring your bags.”

Sitara stands and Wrench and Marcus are quick to copy her. “Thank you. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Chitresh dips his head in and acknowledgment before getting to his feet and walking back to his desk without another word. The whole interaction has Marcus feeling off balance. Once they’re out in the hallway, both he and Wrench turn and look at Sitara.

"That was weird,” Marcus says.

“Completely weird,” Wrench agrees.

“Like what the hell is happening?” Marcus asks.

Sitara pinches the bridge of her nose. “My dad is…a firm and proper man. Nothing you do or say will ever make him react, at least not to your face.”

“He hasn’t seen you in like, three years,” Marcus says.

“My dad doesn’t show how he feels,” Sitara says. “Just know that you are under his skin. That’s what matters.”

Wrench glances at Marcus with flickering questions marks. Marcus gets the point.

"You really think this is a good idea?” he asks. “Pushing him like this right after you mom died?”

The look Sitara gives him is downright murderous. “That man in there does not deserve your sympathy. We didn’t ask you if you were overreacting going after the Tezcas when Horatio was almost murdered, did we?”

Anger rises quick in his veins, an echo of what he’d felt back then, but before he can say anything, Wrench interjects.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He steps between them. “We’re all a little tense right now. How about we check out your dope ass room that’s probably the size of my garage and have this conversation somewhere your douche nugget father can’t hear us. Yeah?”

Marcus looks up at the ceiling and forces himself to take a deep breath. He knows Wrench is right. He knows Sitara has her reasons for why she wants to make the man hurt and he knows that it doesn’t make her a bad person for wanting him to.

“Right,” he says. “Sorry.”

 

-.-

 

Sitara’s room is huge and has a walk out balcony that overlooks the sea. The floor is a plush beige carpet that turns into smooth marble in the en-suite which is almost gaudy in its opulence. Wrench jumps into the deep tub seated beneath a bay window and stretches out.

“The last time I fit in a tub was before my balls dropped,” he says. “I’m going to take a long ass bath later, or now, can I take it now?”

“Wrench? Wanting to bathe? How could I say no?” Sitara teases.

Wrench starts stripping before they leave. Marcus spares Sitara a quick looks and heads to the balcony, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. They’d never really butt heads like this before. He usually has such a tight grip on what’s right and what’s wrong that he doesn’t know what to do with this. He does know that there was no way Wrench didn’t intentionally give them an excuse to talk in private. The problem is he has no idea what to say.

Sitara joins him a moment later and leans against the stone balcony railing. The cool ocean wind whips her hair back from her face. Marcus takes another look before turn his gaze back towards the dark ocean and grey skies, not sure what to do with the total apathy in her expression. He’s usually good at reading people. He’s never had a problem drawing people into a conversation and making them talk about themselves, except, of course, with Sitara.

“I’m not going to apologize for how I feel about my dad,” she says before he can think of what to say. “And I’m not going to say that wanting to cause him pain doesn’t make me a bad person, because it does. But he doesn’t deserve peace. Not in my eyes.”

“I get that,” Marcus says. “I mean, it’s kind of a low blow to bring up Horatio like you did, but you were right. I murdered people in cold blood because of what they did but you guys never made me feel like I was a bad person for going after retribution the way I did. You didn’t call me a thug for getting mixed up with a gang long enough to take them out. I shouldn’t be doing that to you. It’s not my place.”

Sitara turns to look at him. “We’re not angels, Marcus. We shouldn’t pretend to be. You’ve killed people and you will again, Wrench has probably killed more, and Josh, Horatio, and I all help you and that makes us just as culpable. Sure we do it because we think it’s the best option and the people standing in our way are protecting those who want to hurt us, but that doesn’t make us heroes. It shouldn’t.”

“But this isn’t on that scale,” Marcus says, gesturing back towards the house. “You’re right. We are bad people, even if our work is good. This is personal though.” He grabs her hand, squeezing it. “I don’t want you lashing out because you’re hurt and then regretting it later.”

“I won’t,” she says. “I thought about what we talked about, about how I’m happy and sad she’s dead. I’m sad I lost the only person I could have had as a parent, but I’m happy that the abusive bitch is going to be six feet under by tomorrow night. It’s the same with him. I love what he could’ve been, but I hate who he is. I’m not going to be nice.” She shakes her head. “But it isn’t fair of me to ask you to be cruel too. If you don’t want to, I won’t make you.”

“Hey, there’s cruel and there’s messing with people,” Marcus says. “Wrench…he’s got the former handled.”

Sitara laughs and then shakes her hand free long enough to wiggle her ring finger. “I picked a real winner, huh?”

“Hey now, he’s a winner to me,” Marcus says, shoving at her shoulders. It’s better now, the tension easing and giving way to the giddy feeling he usually has when doing something rebellious or stupid. “Thanks. For talking about this.”

“Not a problem.” She shrugs. “I love you guys. I don’t want to fight but sometimes my anger gets the better of me.”

“Of all of us,” Marcus says. “I messed up too.”

Sitara reaches for him and pulls him into a hug, standing up on her tip toes so she can hook her chin over his shoulder. “I forgive you.”

           

-.-

 

Dinner that night is with the close family. The dining hall is just as over top as the rest of the house with a gold chandelier worth more than Marcus’ entire earnings well into the future and an oak table with ornate footings and beige placemats in the center. He ends up seated between Wrench and Sitara’s uncle, a dark skinned Indian man by the name of Advaith. Apparently he’s Chitresh’s older brother and it shows. He’s even more severe in his manner. The line of his shoulders makes Marcus’ own shoulders ache just looking at him.

The other guests include a frail but sharp looking woman who Sitara introduces as the grandmother on her mom’s side, Elaine. She’s fairer-skinned than the rest of the family with brown hair. Her husband, Alexander, is Indian with a bald head and grey mustache. He seems less than cognizant of the general proceedings. There’s also Sitara’s mom’s sister, Pari, a tall woman with a stare that outdoes equals Chitresh’s in how intimidating it is. She doesn’t hide her disgust of Wrench’s appearance, lips curling every time she looks at him. Marcus squeezes Wrench’s knee under the table.

“So will we get to see your lovely husband’s face before the end of the meal?” Pari asks as their appetizers are brought out.

Too Marcus’ surprise, though really he’s not sure why it _is_ a surprise, no one at the table seems shocked by the offensive line of questioning.

"It’s for your benefit, trust me,” Wrench says, eyes bland circles.

Pari’s smile in response is hardly convincing. When Marcus looks at Sitara between bites of his asparagus, she’s closed off again. It’s eerie how she does that. It makes him want to kick everyone at the damn table in the face because clearly her parents weren’t the only ones to teach her to stay quiet.

“San Francisco is an expensive city,” Advaith chimes in. “How do you afford it? I know you declined any help from your mother and father when you eloped.”

“Wrench and I have a business,” Sitara says, her voice unnatural in how pleasant it is. “It’s enough.”

“What do you do?”

“Marijuana dispensary,” Wrench says. “It’s not legal federally you know so no taxes. Making money hand over fist.” His food is untouched.

To their credit, no one at the table looks out off or appalled. Judgmental fucks.

“It’s true,” Sitara says with a shrug. “Besides, it’s a service. Lots of people out there could be getting addicted to opioids but this is a way to relieve them of their pain without the risk. It’s been quite rewarding.”

“I’m not sure enabling people on welfare and introducing people to gateway drugs is necessarily rewarding,” Alexander says, his voice low and barely audible.

“What about you Marcus?” Pari asks, her gaze sliding over to him. It contains more curiosity and less hatred than it had with Wrench but that just makes him angrier.

“Yeah,” he says. He takes a last bite of food and sets the dish aside. “I code for some companies, some freelance stuff to help identify weaknesses in their security and things like that.” It was a total lie.

“And you’re from San Francisco as well?” Pari asks.

“Oakland actually,” Marcus says.

“Ah yes, I saw you on the news,” Advaith says. “You were the one the system in your area labelled as a likely criminal. Then you exposed the system used to determine that false statement and exposed the spying on your neighborhood.”

Marcus can’t hide his surprise. “Yeah, actually.” Advaith doesn’t say anything else, so Marcus assumes that he doesn’t pay attention to the news enough to know about all the other times Marcus ended up on the news thanks to Dusan. “It was good for the community.”

“Hardly,” Chitresh says. When Marcus looks at him, his gaze is on his plate as he cuts his food into neat segments. “With people like that, the more surveillance the better. Gangbangers, thugs, prostitutes…only crime comes out of a place like Oakland.”

Marcus straightens in his chair and spares a glance in Sitara’s direction. She raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘you gonna take that’? And no. He sure as fuck isn’t.

“Oakland’s a little rough, but it isn’t like that means people deserve to have their rights taken away, especially when there’s corporations breaking way more laws,” Marcus says.

“Well, the system was right about you wasn’t it?” Advaith asks. “It predicted you’d committed a crime, and you did, just not the one the system picked out for you.”

“The fact of the matter is, people like that need to be watched,” Chitresh says.

“People like what?” Marcus asks.

The table is silent with everyone looking down at their food. Under the table, Wrench’s hand twines with his. It doesn’t do much for the rising rage in his chest, but it helps to know Wrench and Sitara both have his back, especially against people like this.

“Did you forget that your money doesn’t make you white?” Marcus asks, voice soft. “And your names don’t either.” He looks pointedly at Elaine and Alexander but they don’t see. “Your money will buy a lot, but at the end of the day, we’re still black and brown people. Hating on the broke ones isn’t gonna make you white. The system still categorizes you as more likely to commit a crime than any white person, no matter how much money you got in the bank.”

Pari looks up then, meeting his gaze across the table. There’s something approving in her eyes. He doesn’t care though. He doesn’t want any of their approval, especially not with the way they’ve treated them since they arrived.

“Anyways, thanks for the appetizer. Wouldn’t want any of you to feel uncomfortable with a thug at your table,” Marcus says.

He lets go of Wrench’s hand and pushes his seat back before dropping his napkin on his empty plate. In all honesty, he doesn’t expect Sitara or Wrench to follow him. After all, he’s done his job in messing with them, but Wrench hasn’t had a chance to shine yet and really dig into them the way they both know he can. But instead, Sitara and Wrench get up as well.

“Sit down,” Chitresh says. His hands are curled into fists on either side of his plate.

For a moment, Sitara wavers and starts to sit before abruptly straightening again. “No, I don’t have to. I came here because you asked, which is more than you deserved in the first place, and now you insult my friends and expect civility and humbleness in return. I did that for eighteen years. I’m not doing it for one single more day. I’ll see you all at the funeral tomorrow. Try to act like human beings.”

Marcus kind of wants to slow clap it out, but Sitara looks like she’s about to either punch someone or burst into tears or both so instead he grabs her wrist and tugs her away. Wrench’s eyes are angry back slashes and he flips them off before grabbing his food and following after them. They make it up to the second floor before Sitara lets out a scream of rage and punches the wall. That’s followed immediately by cursing as she shakes her head.

"Hey, hey, let me see,” Marcus says, grabbing her hand. The knuckles already look a little swollen but he pokes and prods until he’s satisfied that she hasn’t broken anything.

“How are you so calm?” she asks.

"He's not," Wrench says.

Marcus glances at him. He forgets sometimes that Wrench sees his emotions so easily when no one else does. He told Marcus he’s always been good at reading people, and he only got better at reading through other people’s masks once he started wearing his own.

“He’s right,” Marcus says. He drops Sitara’s hand. “I’m furious, both at what they said to me and the way they treated Wrench and you. But what’s important to me right now is you.”

“You’re too good,” Sitara says.

“Give yourself some credit. You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Marcus says.

“Of course I did,” she says, easy as nothing.

Marcus doesn’t argue. He doesn’t want to make this about him, but the truth is, he spent most of his life standing up for other people and never having the same done in return. It’s important.

"Still, it means a lot,” Marcus says and leaves it at that.

Before anyone can say anything, the woman from before, Meredith, races up the stairs and nearly collides with them. In one hand she has a bag of ice and the other a towel.

“Five years and you still punch walls when you’re mad,” Meredith says, pushing her way between Marcus and Sitara. “They’re grieving you know. You can’t let them get to you.”

“Five years and you still have excuses for them,” Sitara says as she takes the ice. “Thank you, Meredith.”

“Of course.”

She keeps her head down when she leaves.

“Baby Sitara had a habit of punching walls, huh?” Wrench asks.

“Maybe a little,” she says. “You know, all that impotent teenage rage had to go somewhere.”

“Come on,” Marcus says, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “You need a nice long bath and some relaxation.”

 

-.-

 

Wrench takes his mask off and eats his appetizer while Sitara bathes. Marcus watches him because…he likes to. Wrench still gets flustered sometimes when he notices Marcus watching so intently but he doesn’t mind. After he’s done, Wrench climbs into the overly soft and fluffy bed with Marcus, wrapping an arm over Marcus’ stomach and burying his face against his neck.

“You’re a good guy,” Wrench says. “Sitara’s right. Give yourself more credit.”

“You are too, you know. You put up with some bullshit in that room,” Marcus says.

“It’s not the same,” Wrench says, pushing himself up. “Dickbags always made fun of my face or stared too long because of the scar, but at least with the mask I’m asking them to make some stupid remarks. You didn’t ask for that shit.”

Marcus shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Wrench leans down and presses their lips together. That’s all it takes for the tension to bleed right out of him, which maybe that’s weird but he likes kissing Wrench. There’s something about it that just reminds him it’s okay. No matter what gets fucked up he’s got this. They’re both too preoccupied to notice when the bathroom door opens and it’s only when Sitara curses and stubs her toe on the dresser and they notice. Wrench goes tense in his arms, fingers clenching down around his shoulders.

“Fuck, sorry,” Sitara says. “I was trying to be sneaky.”

Marcus looks over Wrench’s shoulder to see Sitara hovering by her own dresser in one of Horatio’s Nudle sweatshirts and a pair of boxers.

"You’re fine,” Marcus says. “We weren’t thinking. Can you grab his mask?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She nags it off the dresser and climbs onto the end of the bed to pass it over. Marcus takes it and offers it to Wrench. Wrench takes it but otherwise doesn’t move, frowning down at instead and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Sitara raises an eyebrow but Marcus just lift a shoulder in a half shrug. He’s not sure what’s going on in Wrench’s mind either.

“I…don’t have to put it on,” Wrench says. “We could all just chill and it’ll be fine.”

“Wrench, you don’t have to,” Sitara says.

“No, no, I think I do,” Wrench says. He’s staring down at his lap, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Because you’ve been…you didn’t have to invite us to this shit show but you did even though it was hard so…no, I’m not gonna put it on.” He tosses it on the floor and then rolls off Marcus’ lap, a flush climbing into his cheeks as he settles in next to him.

Sitara doesn’t make it weird. She curls into Marcus’ other side after grabbing the TV remote. The three of them fall asleep with it still playing in the background.

 

-.-

 

Marcus wakes up with Wrench drooling on his neck. That’s not all that uncommon. What is uncommon is Sitara curled up in the space Wrench has left free on his other side. He looks down at her and pushes tentative fingers into her tangled mess of hair. She grumbles and pushes closer and he can’t help but smile because he’s never seen her like this, vulnerable and needy without wakefulness adding in all the stress and anxiety.

Wrench snorts and then rolls away, wiping at Marcus’ neck with his shirt sleeve. “Sorry bro. Didn’t mean to drool.”

“You always say that, and yet you keep doing it,” Marcus says.

“Too early,” Sitara says, words muzzy and barely understandable. “Go sleep.”

“It’s like, noon,” Wrench says as he crawls completely out of bed.

“Hey come back, I didn’t get my good morning kiss,” Marcus says.

"Ask Sitara, I gotta shower,” Wrench says.

He disappears into the bathroom before Marcus gets a chance to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about. When he looks back down, Sitara’s already fallen back asleep. He frowns and carefully untangles himself before heading for the bathroom. Wrench is hopping from foot to foot on the cold tile while waiting for the shower to warm, grimacing when he sees Marcus.

“They’re this rich and didn’t put in heated floors? Weak,” he says.

“Want some company?” Marcus asks.

“I always want naked Marcus in my presence, it’s just not socially acceptable or something,” Wrench says as he ducks into the shower.

They’ve showered together before, but they’ve never had this much room to do so comfortably. Marcus takes his time soaping Wrench up. Not in like a sexy way, just the contented familiar way; touching to touch.

“What’d you mean when you said ask Sitara?” Marcus asks as he works over Wrench’s back.

“I mean I was mostly joking but…I don’t know you two look cute together,” Wrench says.

“I love you though,” Marcus says. “I wouldn’t cheat on you, you know that right?”

Wrench turns to face him, slicking his hair back with a quick movement. “Yeah, of course I do. But it’s not cheating if I endorse it.”

“I don’t…” He’s about to say he doesn’t want to kiss Sitara, but he really wouldn’t mind. Just not now. Not when things are the way they are. “Okay so I do, but I wouldn’t and it’s kind of a terrible time for her so it’d be kind of a dick move. And I still wouldn’t do it because we’re dating like I need you to know that.”

“Marcus, chill, I know,” Wrench says with a small laugh. “I appreciate the dedication. Now turn around so I can get your back.”

Because it’s Wrench, it doesn’t stay innocent for long. Within minutes he’s on his knees sucking Marcus’ cock while jacking off and Marcus’ hands twist in his wet hair. He leans back against the shower wall and slides a hand down. Wrench hums when his cups his face, then makes a noise of discontent when Marcus pushes him back a little.

“Sorry, you’re just so fucking pretty,” Marcus says, thumb pushing into Wrench’s mouth.

It’s hard to tell if Wrench is flushing what with the hot water making his skin blossom in a light blush, but he gets this glazed look in his eyes that he gets whenever Marcus makes him feel really good. Marcus moves his hand back to cup his jaw and guides his dick back in. Wrench is even more pliant now, staring up at Marcus with this eager look that makes him want to be rough. He doesn’t though. He takes control but he keeps every motion slow and lets him adjust as he pushes into Wrench’s throat.

He comes like that, whispering quick and quiet praise over and over as he does so. Unsurprisingly, Wrench comes before Marcus can get his dick out of his mouth. Marcus hauls him upright instead and presses their lips together in a rough kiss that makes Wrench shake against him and gasp out his name when he lets him go. He’s pretty useless after that so Marcus rinses them off and drags him out of the shower.

Even after drying off and changing, Sitara’s still fast asleep. Wrench wakes her by catapulting onto the bed and flashing bright lights at her with his mask. She kicks him off and yells while Marcus laughs. It feels more normal like this. He thinks about what Wrench said and tries to imagine all three of them together and the idea makes his stomach warm. Still, it doesn’t feel like the timing is right.

“Jesus, why do I bother with you?” Sitara asks, heading for her suitcase.

“Because you love me,” Wrench says in a sing song voice.

Sitara responds by throwing a t-shirt over his face.

 

-.-

 

The funeral takes place at the local church. They sit in the front row with Chitresh, Alexander, Elaine, and Pari. It’s a small crowd, handful of cousins and uncles and aunts, all dressed in black except for Sitara. She’s in an elegant purple dress Marcus has never seen her in before. It shimmers to blue and black in the sunlight. The splash of color does not go unnoticed, somehow drawing more disgusted looks than Wrench’s mask or the way he and Sitara hold hands.

It’s closed casket so Marcus doesn’t get to see Sitara’s mother’s face. Given the nature of the accident, it’s not a surprise. Still, Marcus has seen enough death to know that the truth of a person is laid to bare there more than it ever is in pictures. The priest speaks in an uninterested tone about the peace of the afterlife, and how it is the job of survivors to celebrate the life a person lived instead of mourning their death. It’s all trite shit no one seems all that moved by.

Chitresh gets up and says a few words after. Listening to him speak, Marcus isn’t sure if it’s emotional repression or if Chitresh actually didn’t love his wife all that much. The guy is a locked box.

“Carmen loved us all,” Chitresh says. “She poured her love into me and our family as well as those around her.”

Wrench squeaks, barely audible but enough to draw attention. When Marcus looks, he can see Sitara clenching down hard on his hand, the skin on both their hands paling. Chitresh looks back out over the rest of the group.

“She will be missed, but I take comfort in knowing she never had to see what our daughter became.”

Chitresh steps down then and moves to sit on the other side of Alexander and Elaine. Marcus holds his breath, waiting to see what Sitara does. He expects something. Sitara has never taken anything lying down in all the time he’s seen her but she doesn’t move. Her jaw is clenched tight and he can see her lip tremble. When he looks down further, he sees a smug look on Chitresh’s face and that more than anything makes him want to lash out. He doesn’t though, because it’s Sitara’s choice. Any remaining empathy he had for the man is long gone though.

After a long moment, the casket bearers come forward and slowly, row by row, they leave the church. Sitara doesn’t move as her family stands around her and moves passed without a single word, only keeping her chin up and her eyes forward. Before long, it’s just them.

“Marcus?”

“Yeah?” he asks, coming around to kneel in front of her.

“I think I’d like to cry now,” she says. She doesn’t look at him.

“You can,” he says, reaching up to pry her hand out of Wrench’s and hold it between his own.

“I don’t know how,” she says, voice breaking.

“You just let it happen,” Wrench says.

She covers her mouth as a sob escapes her, then she folds down into Marcus’ arms and begins to weep.

 

-.-

 

They drive home a few hours later. Marcus drives while Sitara sleeps in the backseat with her head in Wrench’s lap. By the time they get back to San Francisco, she looks better too, the tension drained out of her shoulders and face. She looks different though too. Marcus isn’t quite sure how to describe it, but there’s something more open about her, like she finally was done clamping down so tightly on herself.

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

When they get back, Horatio is the first to hug her. He spins her around once, making her laugh before setting her down and taking her over the follower wall, chatting about something he and Josh had been working on. Josh watches them for a moment before tugging at Marcus’ arm sleeve and drawing him away from Wrench.

“Is she okay? Should I say something?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Nah, she’s doing alright,” Marcus says. “She doesn’t need anything but if you wanted to say something it wouldn’t hurt. Rough few days and all that.”

Josh nods, eyes on the ground before walking away. Wrench sidles back up in his space and they watch as Josh approaches the other three and then offers his arms in a hug. Sitara looks surprised and then smiles, accepting it. Wrench makes a humming noise.

“So what about Josh?” he asks.

“Next you’re going to ask me to fuck Lenni,” Marcus says with an eye roll.

“Oh fuck no, Lenni makes me look like an angel,” Wrench says, eyes turning to back slashes when Marcus looks at him. “Just saying dude. You get this look in your eyes when you look at the three of them. The same one you give me.”

Marcus opens his mouth and then stops, looking back at the others who are now grouped around Horatio’s computer. The rush of affection he always feels when he looks at them takes on a whole new meaning.

“Shit you’re right,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Wrench says. He loops an arm around Marcus waist, backing him into the wall and lifting his mask up. “I know you love me best.”

“Of fucking course I do,” Marcus says, and he kisses him to show him just how much.


End file.
